


A Simple Divinity

by casstayinmyass



Category: Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Body Horror, Body Modification, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Decapitation, Demon Sex, F/M, Face-Fucking, Genital Piercing, Name-Calling, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Pain, Rough Oral Sex, Scarification, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: You summon the cenobites for a different kind of pleasure, and you get what you ask for from their leader.
Relationships: Pinhead (Hellraiser)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	A Simple Divinity

They say you retain consciousness for up to 15 seconds after decapitation.

The blow to your neck causes your nervous system to reach a climax of sensation. Many argue that the impact of the first strike will knock you unconscious, only for the narrowed, desperate passageways of severed veins to force their last few pumps of blood out from the fatal site of separation, like fresh seed from a well-pleasured cunt.

This remarkable finale of gore can be avoided however, with a clean cut. That's what everyone condemned to death by beheading wishes for during their last rites; a severance of the nerves that would echo what unimaginable suffering the blade has brought upon your body. Pain can tantalize, but to those uninitiated there is ecstasy to be found in swift endings. A quick and painless death if done right; confusion of the last ticking seconds of the mind allows you to mourn yourself before the dark swallows all that you were. Is there anyone out there in the dark?

Yes. Yes, there is.

The moment his eyes locked on yours, you knew you were damned. Nothing had escaped him--were they a him?-- before, and no one would. You hadn't expected any less when configuring a puzzle like this one; the creaking that teased your ears and the bell that tolled its death knell confirmed what you had known going into this ritual: you wouldn't be returning.

Out of clouds of putrid fog, three figures emerge behind him and surround you. Each is more grotesque than the last, but you still find yourself drawn back into the soulless gaze of the tall being above you, he who seemed superior to the others. Through the pattern of pins, those black eyes sweep down your body. You're naked kneeling before him, but his eyes seem to undress you even further, relieving you of your skin to reveal the intricacies of the flesh beneath. His eyes sweep back up over what skin you've bared, noticing your nakedness.

"Ours is not a summoning of tangible vanity," he speaks calmly. His voice seems to penetrate your bones, threatening to shatter your fragile core. "Excretions are more than sufficient."

You glance over at the altar where you'd left everything for them, as per the ritual. "Do you object?" you're brave enough to ask him. Though he has no hair there, the skin seems to stretch tighter over his brow bones as he expresses his intrigue.

"I do not. We have seen such sights. It is all we see as we tear each fibre of your being apart." Though his words are repulsive, his pale lips do not part to reveal anything of a sneer; he seems utterly unchanged by both the display of offered lust and the question of his own interest in such a trivial thing. He tilts his head slightly. "You do not fear your fate."

You shake your head. He doesn't ask why; simply looks down at the box in your hands. "What was your reason for summoning us?"

"Pain," you answer. The cenobite is quiet for a moment. Not a peep from those behind you.

"Most answer with the opposite," he tells you. "However. The configuration you hold is not a game of fevered antonym to be outsmarted so wittily. The same fate awaits all those who call to us."

"You think I'm bluffing?" you clarify with a small smile. "I like pain."

"Little one," the cenobite sighs, cradling your chin in his cold, pale hand. "You do not know pain." Something in his voice makes you shiver; likely the conviction in it that reveals he's telling the truth.

"I enjoy it. It feels good. It feels different... I want to see what Hell can give me." His lips part slowly.

"You speak of the horrors of Hell as if you know them," he says. His scrutiny humbles you.

"No. I don't presume to."

"That is a pity. I thought perhaps, we had met before."

You bite your lip, and the pin-faced demon casts his gaze downward again. "You quiver for me. Why?" His question is plain, though you don't know how to answer. “I thirst for this knowledge. Tell me.” He takes a deep breath in, and exhales a curious hum. "It is a rare scent we never smell," he tells you. "Not one our victims secrete when being flayed alive or tortured beyond recognition. You surprise me, though not unpleasantly." A few beats go by. You hear the cenobites behind you moving in closer, and figure it's finally time... however, Pinhead puts up a hand. "Where we come from, pleasure and pain are one. As you seem to understand this, I see no reason to rush the process."

Your voice comes out weak, almost nervous for the first time tonight. "The process of what?" Finally betraying his careful stoicism, the tortured face splits into a grin.

"The defiling of your soul." The noise you let out next can only be comparable to a moan, and the sound is like music to the cenobite's ears. He gestures with two fingers to his subordinates, and you feel a cool wire touch your throat.

"In order to defile your soul," he continues. "We must start with the flesh." The wire digs in, and he grips your chin again, raising you up to your feet with his strength. The wire follows you up. "Such eager eyes," he whispers. "What do you wish for, child?" You blink up at him.

"To pleasure you."

"Impossible."

"Let me try?"

He seems amused, as if regarding a pet who has bitten its own tail. "One last desire granted. Because I enjoy you, curious child, you may try what you wish. Our puzzle is one of venturing minds and endless possibilities... it would only be right to grant you this in the pursuit of the vulgar knowledge which you seek." Those same two fingers slip inside you the next thing you know, and you think you've seen heaven. This repugnant being is touching you as you always touch yourself, each stroke a deliberate vault toward the ecstasy of the pleasure that awaits the act. He fucks you perfectly with his fingers as you grab onto the harsh leather of his garments. In horror, you realize you've grabbed flesh torn from his chest, but he only seems encouraged by this. Your thighs quiver. His teeth bare.

"Come closer," he hisses. You tilt your chin up to do as he says. "Such power in devotion." He begins to shove his fingers in rough and you sob into him. It starts to hurt, but you only cry harder for him. "Give in to the pleasure, slut." 

The finish is indescribable. You feel as though you've crossed the very threshold of life and death, and you realize you're clutching onto him. Your knees give out, and you drop to them once more. The wire only tightens.

"Your thirst for what awaits is deliciously obscene," Pinhead drawls.

The demon bears himself to you, and though you're not quite sure what you're looking at, you feel your mouth water at the sight as your clit pulses. It has retained the shape of a human phallus, an impressive one at that. But the scarification of it almost makes you choke. Trails of skin are ripped away, pins driven through the shaft, under and up and down to the hairless base. You reach your finger out to feel one pin tentatively, and he exhales.

"Touch. I like it." You do as he says, moving one of the pins through the head of his cock; the moan he lets out rumbles the room. Spurred on by this, you take some of him into your mouth, deterred only slightly by the strange sensation of each modification. You hum around him, but suddenly the wire tightens again around your neck, reminding you it's there.

"I will make you a deal, talented one," Pinhead says, slipping his fingers into your hair. "If you can pleasure me to my finish before your head separates from your shoulders, you may keep your life... and your soul."

An angry chattering of teeth comes from behind you, but Pinhead's cold glare is quickly upon the source of the noise for challenging his judgement. The protest dies.

You swallow. They're going to cut off your head with a wire. You nod quickly to the agreement, and Pinhead starts to slowly fuck in and out of your mouth.

"Good little one," he says. The praise of this hellish priest only makes you want him more, aroused by the fear and by the being himself. As you suck him down however, your skin begins to burn where they are playing your neck like a fiddle. You feel the wire slice just barely in, and let out a muffled scream around Pinhead's cock.

"Hurry, child," he hisses. "It won't be long now." You feel him throb, and take him down, feeling the needles scrape the back of your throat as you do your best to swallow around him. The action pushes the needles further in through the head, and Pinhead's fingers tighten more, starting to slide you gently back and forth. "I had forgotten what earthly pleasure could offer," he sighs. "Inconsequential, yet so simply divine." He groans, looking down at you then back up. "See how they want me," Pinhead growls to the ceiling. The wire cuts deeper, and a tear rolls down your cheek.

"Hurts," you groan around him. The pins scrape the roof of your mouth, drawing blood. He only slides again to the back of your throat as you keep bobbing in a fevered attempt to save your life. Carried by some strange obsession, you find you don't want to stop. The pain is too good, the fear of the gruesome fate they tease and the pleasure of making this thing moan for you culminate in an unholy desire to feel his hot seed dripping from your lips. Motivated by this sinful image in your mind's eye, you hurry in your depravity, holding onto his boots as you suck harder around the engorged cock.

"Yes..." he growls. "Serve me. Serve me, and scream for all of Hell to hear."

The wire slices again, and you start to feel the blood pour in warm rivulets. You continue sucking. It cuts again. Another cut, and another, sawing back and forth in a slow taunt, daring you to hang on. Your life dangles by this very wire, and you feel no indication Pinhead is about to finish. Desperately, you lick under the marred head and even bite down. He lets out a grunt of appreciation, and pushes his hips harder until he's practically fucking your face. Each thrust saws the sharp wire again, until you feel a snap and your head begin to tilt back. Your eyes widen. How can you still feel your body? How are you still sucking?

"I near the end, little one," he murmurs. You deepthroat the demon, and give it your all among the sound of squelching lips and rustles of excited cenobites behind you both... but when Pinhead pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly, you hear a thump below that can only mean one thing.

_15, 14, 13, 12, 11..._

He takes his time lifting your head up to his face, holding eye contact with your rapidly blinking eyes. The top of your spinal cord dangles unceremoniously behind your skull, gore hanging from the cracked vertebrae and rejoining your body with every loosening drip. You can still feel your phantom arousal.

_10, 9, 8, 7, 6..._

"My state of being is the equivalent of one of your orgasms," he smiles, in revelation of his cheat. "My pleasure neither starts nor finishes." The walls start to turn black around you and your headless corpse below withers. The cenobites turn into black birds and Pinhead holds your gaze as your consciousness disintegrates with the tangible world around you to join him finally.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1._


End file.
